


Your Broken Wings

by Thysanotus



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Drabble
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-11-23
Updated: 2005-11-23
Packaged: 2018-10-27 07:32:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10804674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thysanotus/pseuds/Thysanotus
Summary: A/N:This is the third of 22 ficlets for my birthday. Written this time forfivil. She asked forHarry/Ron, rather have angst than happy happy, tumour, muggy, monster, unintelligible, floor.





	Your Broken Wings

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

  
Author's notes: the lyrics from _Blackbird_ , by The Beatles, belong to them, and all copyright etc. is theirs.  


* * *

 a. _blackbird singing in the dead of night  
take your broken wings and learn to fly  
all your life  
you were only waiting for this moment to arise_  
  
b. The tail-lights of the car ahead gleam red and reflected in the moisture on the road. Harry Potter sighs and increases the beat of the windscreen wipers. The heater in the car is broken, and the chill in the air nips the flesh of his hands to an unhealthy blue-purple. The shade reminds him of the darkening afternoon sky, glazed eyes, slackening jaw. He tucks his hands under his thighs as he sits at the traffic lights, indicator blinking off-on, off-on, beaming orange in the misty rain, salty tears drying on his cheek. Behind him, horns blare unnoticed.  
  
c. Ron used to wake up in the middle of the night, Harry remembers. He thought the monster that lived under his bed was going to grind his bones to make his bread. When he was small, and still sharing a room with the twins, they used to tell him horror stories in the middle of the night, voices lowered and expressions solemn. The only one that he can remember now is the hotmoistbreathing monster that lives under his bed. This is the story he gasps out to Harry as he slips under Harry’s blankets, still shivering in fear as the rain patters lightly outside.  
  
d. Clothes lie in piles on the floor of the flat, and Harry sifts through them aimlessly. There is no point to keeping them all. No-one will wear them, and he has no wish to build a shrine to Ron’s memory. The pain that shoots through his arm as he punches the floor is useless and futile; as hopeless and wrenching as sunshiny afternoons darkening to summer evenings.  
  
e. _blackbird singing in the dead of night  
take these sunken eyes and learn to see  
all your life  
you were only waiting for this moment to be free_  
  
f. As Harry hurries past the building, bundled well against the cold, the automatic doors slide open and the familiar antiseptic smell rises to the back of his throat. Molly sighed when they told her, but didn’t disagree. Harry thinks that was when the last strand of hope inside of him snapped. The last fibre holding onto the faint gleam that this might all be alright. Harry thinks of Ron’s eyes, sunken within his skull with no energy left to gleam, tracking him around the room. He couldn’t cry there, not in front of Ron in the muggy heat of the summer. Hermione did, stopping abruptly in her reading aloud to blow her nose furiously into a handkerchief. Ron started treating it as a joke, after a while, offering her “a fabulous Muggle invention” – tissues.  
  
g. His words became unintelligible towards the end. They had to stoop closer to hear him, the Weasleys at ease in the Muggle hospital. This is what saddens Harry the most, he remembers, that they have been here so often as to become accustomed to the sights and sounds. Not even the strange apparatus around the bed held any interest for them, anymore. They knew too well what the purpose of each was, had it spelt out in graphic detail by the nurses, too busy to care about the “odd” boy and his strange assortment of relatives, who came to the hospital dressed too brightly and chattered too loudly.  
  
h. _tumour: an abnormal mass of tissue resulting from an uncontrolled cell division. tumours can be benign or malignant. malignant (cancerous) tumours can spread (via the lymphatic vessels or via the blood stream) to other parts of the body, causing metastases._  
  
i. The monster that ate Ron came from the inside.


End file.
